Golden Years
by Lucinda
Summary: Will become a series of glimpses into a possible future 60 years after the movie.
1. How Does Your Garden Grow?

Golden Years: How Does Your Garden Grow?  
  
author: Lucinda  
  
main characters; Ororo, Logan  
  
rating: pg  
  
disclaimer: Nobody that you recognize from Marvel is mine.  
  
distribution: please ask first.  
  
note: set approximately sixty years in the future of the X-Men movie. Probably a far more optimistic future than they will actually get.  
  
  
  
Cheyenne Drake sighed as she looked out the window. At the front of the classroom, Professor Charles Summers was droning on about the history of Xavier's School for the gifted, one of a handful of schools across America that had extensive programs to teach mutants proper control of their powers. It was old news, she'd heard the same speech every year that she'd been a student. The school taught them control, and also math, english, history... all the things that made school educational. All the things that she could learn anywhere else. Running her fingers through her blue hair, she wondered why her parents had insisted on sending her here. It wasn't as if she couldn't learn the same things at any other school.  
  
She looked out the window, trying not to fall asleep from boredom. How did it matter to her that Xavier's had faced some opposition at first? It would have been nice if Mr. Summers explained how the school had first developed it's training programs, but that was never brought up. Below, old lady Munroe was in the garden, the same as always. She was some sort of mutant, but Cheyenne wasn't certain exactly what she could do, if there was even anything impressive to Ms Munroe other than her dignity. And her visitor... wait a minute, visitor?  
  
There was a man standing beside Ms Munroe, a dark haired man with muscles, and from here, she thought he looked pretty cute. Or at least well built, with sort of wild dark hair that seemed to have been teased into a pair of points. Why would he be talking to Ms Munroe? The woman had to be close to ninety years old by now...  
  
In the garden, Logan smiled as he looked at Ororo. The years had marked her, but not too harshly. She still moved well, if a bit more slowly than before, she was still graceful and dignified. "So, how does your garden grow?"  
  
She turned around, a smile on her face as she saw him. Lines crinkled around her eyes and her mouth, the sort of lines from smiling, being out in the fresh air, and the passing of time. "Logan, it is good to see you again. I hadn't realized that it was that time again..."  
  
Logan nodded. Every year, on the anniversary of her death, he came to visit his wife's grave. Every year, he saw the faces of the people he'd fought with change, marked by time while he stayed the same. "Yeah... it's that time again. You don't look bad yourself, Ro. How are the grandkids?"  
  
She gave a small laugh. "Just mine, or everyone else's? The students are... well, they're students. So many of them are uninterested in the history, they don't even understand why there are still separate schools for mutants. After all, with the various laws granting and enforcing equal rights... the lack of very much active discrimination... They don't understand, Logan. They won't listen, they don't realize how much this peace, this equality cost. They don't see how hard it was to gain it, and they don't understand what it was like back then, when being a mutant could get you killed."  
  
"Not even the Summers horde? Not even the other grandkids of the people who were X-men?" Logan was shocked. How could their own children know so little?  
  
She gave a small, dry chuckle. "Well, the Summers horde have a bit more of an idea, especially the telepaths, but... They don't want to see. My own grandchildren haven't connected that the Ororo Munroe who was Storm of the X-Men is the same as their Gran. It's as if their grandmother couldn't have done anything so... exciting and dangerous. Maybe if I hadn't stepped back from active duty when I became a mother... If I had done things differently... Logan, do you ever wonder how things would be if you'd made different choices?"  
  
He looked at her, remembering how he'd wanted so badly to be the man in her life, to be the one to hold her. But she'd been happy with Nathan, and he hadn't wanted to interfere with her delight. So he'd let her go, and ended up with his Danielle instead... and held his wife in his arms while she died. He'd watched Ororo struggle to hold herself and her children together after a drunk driver had killed her husband. Had watched as things changed in their lives. "All the time, 'Ro. I keep wondering how things would have been. There was this woman once... I loved her. But she had a boyfriend, and I didn't want to try to break them up. So I didn't go after her. I've always regretted it, always wondered how things would have been if I had tried, if I'd gone after her. Would she have shot me down, or gone away with me?"  
  
Ororo looked at him, her eyes filled with thoughts and speculations. "Do you still care for this woman? Even though she was with someone else?"  
  
"Always. She'll be there forever, or until my head is emptied out all over again. Beautiful, talented, perfect." He had so many images of her, from the quiet woman that he'd first met, to the sight of her in her wedding gown, glowing with new life, images of her as the years had gone by, aging gracefully, beautifully. Even now, she was still attractive, still a goddess among women. Still the unattainable Ororo.  
  
With a sad smile, Ororo looked back to her flowers. "It's sweet that you hold Jean in such a regard."  
  
Resting on hand on her shoulder, he let himself breath in her scent, still sandalwood and rain. "One problem with that, 'Ro. The woman I loved and didn't go after isn't Jean. She's... someone else. Special, beautiful... and not mine. She's only mine in my dreams, in the what if's in my head."  
  
Ororo looked startled. "Not Jean? But I thought... well, did this woman of yours, this one that got away, was she happy with her man?"  
  
He let himself give a small smile. Even now, he couldn't find the words to tell her. "She was happy... even when he died, she was happy. She's had a good life, one full of blessings and joy, all the good things that she deserved."  
  
"That's a good thing then. That she had blessings in her life." Ororo smiled as she tended the flowers, a sad smile on her face.  
  
"You're still beautiful, Ro. Inside and out. I'd best go say hello to Jubilee... drop by and say hello to everyone else... the ones that are left anyhow." He walked away, wishing once again that he had the words or the courage to tell her how much she meant to him, how much she'd always meant to him. But the words wouldn't come.  
  
end How Does Your Garden Grow? 


	2. Watchful Eyes

Golden Years: Watchful Eyes  
  
author: Lucinda  
main characters: Jubilee, Logan  
rating: pg  
disclaimer: Nobody that you recognize from Marvel is mine.  
distribution: please ask first.  
note: set approximately sixty years in the future of the X-Men movie. Probably a far more optimistic future than they will actually get.  
  
  
  
  
Jube Lee-Han sighed as she watched a group of students talking and whispering amongst themselves. They were all so young, no more than seventeen, and still children. They were still awkward, half formed adolescents, uncertain who they were or what they wanted to do with their lives. Their biggest worries were fashions, music and local gossip. Well, maybe some of them had broader worries. And she mustn't forget the concerns of homework, difficult exams and attempting to evade the advisors and adult supervision.  
  
Oh yes, she was adult supervision now. Her hair was still short and wild, but now it was a pale grey, like fine ashes. She was actually considered responsible enough to have authority over impressionable young minds... maybe the fact that she was seventy eight years old had influenced young Charles Summers into giving her the position. In some ways he reminded her so much of his father... except that his hair was a bit more reddish... now touched with grey, he could be Cyclops all over again. Same body type, same stiff approach to procedure, same red glasses. Sometimes it just about made her get choked up, he looked so much like his father... But Scott was dead now, and had been for thirty years.  
  
And in the sixty years since she'd come here, she'd been an X-Man, helped save the world, lost her leg to a psychotic reptilian mutant and been forced off the team while recuperating. She just couldn't do the same things anymore without her leg. So, scarred and one legged, she'd been forced to spend time healing in a convalescent hospital. She'd felt so self conscious of the slashes over her cheek and neck, where the demented mutant had tried to rip her face off, literally. She'd been lucky that he hadn't popped an eye or slashed an artery.  
  
Dear god she'd been bitter about that. She'd always hated to be cooped up. But if she hadn't been there she wouldn't have met Tom Han, wouldn't have fallen in love with the man with such spirit and fire inside. She wouldn't have run away with him to the circus, getting married and having five children.  
  
Of course, once she'd got the prosthetic, she'd insisted on practicing with the acrobats, feeling like she'd been getting soft and helpless from inactivity and a lack of training. She'd ended up the carefully masked assistant to a stage magician performing tricks for the circus crowds. She had two children who'd become acrobats, and a lion tamer, an accountant, and a clown. Now, her grand children were starting to be old enough to go out into the world, to start their independent lives...  
  
Some of them were mutants, but that didn't matter. One of them wanted to be a teacher, and another wanted to be a policeman. That was as close as they ever wanted to come to being 'heroes'. But they'd loved her stories, even though they were certain that 'nan Lee' was exaggerating her stories to make them more exciting. She'd just smiled, knowing the truth, but not worried enough to argue. Besides, she was older now, and scarred, and still had a limp, no mater how good the prosthetic was. It didn't move quite the same.  
  
After Tom had died, she'd fallen into depression. If one of Jean and Scott's kids hadn't picked up on it, she might have just dried up and died from despair. Rachel was just as much an interfering busy-body as her parents and almost gran'pa Xav'r had ever been. So, they'd brought her back here, and put her in charge of watching the children. Children who didn't understand how much things had changed, had no idea how much people had fought and bled and died so that they could live this oblivious life.  
  
"Hey kid. Still eat chili-cheese-fries?" A deep gravely voice came from behind her.  
  
She spun around, her face lighting up in a grin. She barely noticed the scars pulling at her eyelids or the corner of her mouth anymore. "Wolvie!" She flung herself into his arms, delighted to see her friend again.  
  
She looked at him, his hair still the coarse dark mane that it had always been, his face unwrinkled, unchanged by time. Only his eyes looked any different. "Jubes. Got a new cyberleg, hmm? This one any more flexible?" He had a small smile, one that said he was glad to see her.  
  
"You haven't changed a bit, Wolvie. I think I'm jealous. As for chili-cheese-fries, of course I still eat them! I may be old and grey, but I'm not that far gone." She smiled at him, a hint of her youthful mischief lurking in her eyes. "So, are you buying?"  
  
Logan just chuckled, and they began to walk towards the front doors. "So, still up for a ride on the Harley? I've had to get a newer one, the old one gave up on me about fifteen years back..."  
  
Charles Summers was walking through, one hand full of disks for his class. He looked so much like his father in that moment that Logan gave a sharp nod. "Sc... Charles. Got a good sized crop of kids here."  
  
"Logan." His exasperated sigh was all Jean. "Would it do any good for me to tell you that Ms Lee-Han is an older citizen now and doesn't need you endangering her safety?"  
  
Logan gave a small shrug. "I don't wreck. She'll be fine."  
  
They continued out into the twilight courtyard. "He looks so much like his dad. They almost smell the same."  
  
Jube looked at Logan, for the first time realizing how hard things must be for him. To watch everyone around him grow old or die while he stayed the same... "How do you do it? Doesn't this place just remind you of the past all the time?"  
  
"All the time. It was easier back when you were one of those young troublemakers. I didn't have that much that I could remember, nobody looked more than vaguely familiar. But now... Yeah. He's Scott all over again, and then there's Jeannie's girls, Rachel and Terri and Kennedy, all so much like she was... And I'm still the same." There was something in his expression, something that she couldn't quite read.  
  
She looked at him, certain that he had some sort of reasoning. "Then... why do you keep coming back to this place? Why... you can't tell me that you couldn't visit Dani's grave without getting caught."  
  
"Because I want to remember. You've seen it in the kids, 'Ro's seen it. The youngsters today don't know how it was, don't care to learn. Somebody has to remember how far we've come, how much it cost. Since it looks like I'm going to be around a good long time, I might as well be that somebody." His eyes were almost haunted. "It took so much and so long to get this..."  
  
Jube sighed, thinking over the students behavior and conversations. "Yeah... they can't imagine somebody getting all freaked out because the kid next to them has green hair, or feathers. They don't even understand why Xavier's was important. To them, the first X-Men are the heroes of legend. But I'm just a cranky old lady to dodge coming in after curfew, and 'Ro's just a gardner. Hank's just the old furry doctor who gives them their assorted vaccinations... Storm and Jubilee and the Beast are hero's, we're just old relics. It hurts sometimes."  
  
"You sound a bit annoyed, firecracker." Logan sounded almost like he was laughing as they stopped in front of a gleaming Harley. It was one of the 'classic style', oddly reminiscent of his old bike.  
  
She looked at him, her eyes sparkling a bit. "I think, if anything, I'm a bit jealous. I never got the sort of childhood that they have. It's just... they don't even know how lucky they are."  
  
"Let's hope they never need to know." Logan's almost gentle suggestion was the last thing spoken before they roared down the driveway, headed to the only mall in the state that still made the real, old fashioned chili-cheese-fries.  
  
end Watchful Eyes. 


	3. Dreams of Yesterday

Golden Years: Dreams of Yesterday  
  
author: Lucinda  
main characters: Marie(Rogue), Logan  
rating: pg  
disclaimer: Nobody that you recognize from Marvel is mine.  
distribution: please ask first.  
note: set approximately sixty years in the future of the X-Men movie. Probably a far more optimistic future than they will actually get.  
  
  
  
  
Marie sat in the bay window, gazing out as she had done so many years before, back when she was one of the troubled youngsters here to learn, seeking answers and control. Back then, she had yearned for control over her powers, to have the ability to touch. Skin to skin contact was what triggered her power, and when she had been just sixteen and newly come to Xavier's, she couldn't stop it, could do nothing more than wrap herself in layers of fabric, to keep herself apart from the world. It had been incredibly lonely, more so because even the other mutants feared her, whispering that she stole powers, that a single touch would leave a boy helpless in the infirmary. Back then, it would have.  
  
She'd had a terrible crush on Logan. He'd been strong, and sort of attractive, and he hadn't been afraid of her, hadn't looked at her as a conquest or a prize, just... to him, she'd been someone to keep safe. Marie had eventually realized that her crush wouldn't work, that he didn't WANT her, that he saw her as someone to young for him. And it had made sense, even though the gentle rejection of it had hurt. Then, she'd met Remy. Even though he couldn't have been more than a year or two older than her, he was charming, confident, and... well, not exactly polished, but he was something. He had a disarrayed charm, a sort of wild, unkempt appeal that had made her want to bring him home and take care of him. He'd seemed to find her charming, and they'd sort of dated on and off for a few years.  
  
But she'd been no closer to learning to control her power, and she'd essentially drove him away, hoping that he could find happiness without her. She hadn't wanted him to be miserable tied to a woman he could never touch. She'd wanted him to be happy, wanted, prayed, pleaded for some way to be that touchable woman he deserved. After a few years, he'd hooked up with someone else, an elegant British woman named Betsy, and they'd gotten married. She'd been so incredibly jealous...  
  
She hadn't gained consistent control until she was almost thirty. Then, she'd promptly decided to take a bit of a vacation from being a hero, from risking her life. She wanted to try to have a life... But the one she'd ended up with hadn't quite gone the way she'd imagined.  
  
Marie had married Ethan, a charming architect with the most devastating smile, and a bit of a southern accent. For a while, they'd been so happy, the perfect little family, complete with a pair of little boys that looked a lot like their father, but with a few hints of her in their coloring, and around their eyes. She'd been pregnant with their third child, thinking that she was getting to old for any more babies when he'd run away with this big eyes exotic dancer, leaving her and the children with nothing but piles of debts. She'd nearly lost her daughter from all of that stress, and had returned to Xavier's, roundly pregnant and leading her two boys, then six and two. She'd felt like she'd somehow failed, had been unable to convince Ethan to stay because she hadn't been quite enough...  
  
There were so many things that she'd do over if she could. But... that would mean not having her children. Although their abilities were a bit of a bafflement to her. Each of her three children had to powers of somebody that she'd 'borrowed' once upon a time. Her oldest boy, Jack, had somehow ended up with weather manipulation just like Storm's. Michael had Scott's optic blasts, down to the precise electromagnetic frequency. And as for her darling Julie, the only one of her children with Ethan's blond hair, Julie had the abilities of one of the villains they had fought time and time again, Magneto. Nobody had been able to explain it, and eventually, it had just been decided to blame it on some sort of secondary mutation in her system.  
  
It seemed that she'd been doing little more than thinking over her life lately. Ever since her last check up with Hank, ever since he'd told her... Although his words hadn't been that much of a surprise. She'd felt her body changing. Felt things... she could feel the pressure sometimes, like some evil thing throbbing inside of her. But she didn't want to dwell on her time limit. It would be best to make the most of her remaining time.  
  
She'd seen Logan occasionally, marveling at the way time had almost skipped him. He'd married this charming Native American woman, Danielle Moonstar, and they'd had a delightfully happy family. She hadn't been surprised that Logan had been a good father, or that he'd been so horribly upset when his wife had died. Now, she wished she'd known his Dani better.  
  
The deep roar of a returning Harley Davidson motorcycle pulled her mind back to the present. Could that be... it was the right time of the year. Logan visited Dani's grave every year at the anniversary of her death, was it already... With a small smile, she carefully got to her feet, feeling as if every bone was creaking in protest. She had no idea how Ororo still gardened. She could go talk to Logan, to someone that didn't think she was silly for thinking back over missed chances. After all, he had a few of those what if's of his own. Surely he wouldn't begrudge her a few wistful reminisces about Remy, the one she'd thrown away.  
  
She made her way there in time to see Jubilee... well, Jube now, slowly sliding down from the Harley behind Logan, looking old enough to be his grandmother. Her hair was almost as wild as Logan's right now, and the scars almost unnoticable in the evening twilight. She gave him a hug, and made her way towards the dorms, humming something as she went.  
  
"I wish I was so cheerful about my old age as Jube is. She seems... it's like she's still just the same, only older." Her voice sounded a bit envious.  
  
Logan grinned a bit, still so much the same that she could almost picture that miserable truck camper behind him, could see the bars of the cage fighting pit behind him for a moment. "She's changed a bit, just not entirely. She's settled down a bit."  
  
"While I just let myself turn into a bitter old lady dreaming about what went wrong with my life." She sighed, shaking her head a bit.  
  
He gave a small chuckle. "You aren't that bitter, Marie. As for Remy... You did what you choose to do with that one. It's a bit late to worry about right or wrong, if you should have done things differently. You didn't do that bad, kid... Marie."  
  
"Guess I don't look much like a kid anymore, do I?" There was a bit of laughter behind her voice as she gestured at herself. Her hair was a fine ashen hue except for the white locks that commemorated Magneto, and worn in short curls. Fine wrinkles surrounded her eyes and mouth, her skin still pale but now somehow looser, not quite so close to her body. She looked frail now, her limbs shrunken and thin, her knuckles larger. She'd always called them old lady hands, and well, she was an old lady now.  
  
Reaching out, he ruffled her hair, a smile almost touching his eyes. "Not so young now, Marie. Have any luck getting your kids to understand it all?"  
  
"Yes and no... they know about the facts of it, they can tell you what happened, identify the people, but... they don't get it. They can't figure out how people could have hated so much and so easily, can't understand people fighting and dying over 'a difference of philosophy' or 'a twist in the genes'. Logan, I don't know how I could have made them understand. Was there something more that I could have done?" She looked at him, somehow unsurprised that she would hope for something, practical advice from Logan.  
  
Logan was silent for a few moments, and with a grin that made it impossible to determine just how serious he was, he dropped a question into the twilight. "Got a telepath? If words alone don't work, maybe memories would."  
  
Marie blinked, wondering why nobody had thought of that before. "Well.... there might be one or two of those somewhere around here." She teased him just a little, knowing full well that there were easily a dozen telepaths of various levels of strength and training, most of which were Jean's children or grandchildren. "Seriously, that's probably what it would take for it to seem real to them. Charles would probably think it was some sort of invasion of privacy..."  
  
"He's a lot like his dad was." Logan's voice held an odd note. "There was a bit more red to his hair, but now with the grey? He looks just like Scott did at that age."  
  
"Do you run into much of that around here? People looking like their parents did? I'd noticed about Scott and Jean's brood, but... I never even met Jube's family. Were they... are they much like she was?"  
  
"No and yes. None of them look just like she did, but... you can see her in them, especially in the lion tamer. Fearless, and daring the world to prove something, just like she was. 'Course, they think her stories are a bit exaggerated to make them more interesting..." Logan looked almost amused.  
  
"Like any of the things we did back then need exaggerating to sound interesting! She's probably keeping parts out." Marie laughed, thinking about the years gone by. So many yesterdays, so many memories.  
  
Logan smiled a bit, something lurking in his eyes. "Yeah... plenty of excitement. Being shot at with everything from guns to lightning to fire to acid to killer snowballs... Makes me wonder how I manage to do without."  
  
"What's the matter, Logan? Is there something... something's bothering you." She wondered what new sorrow he would have to carry.   
  
"Have you seen a doctor lately?" There was worry in his eyes, and a callused finger brushed over her cheek.  
  
Marie sighed, feeling as if she was deflating. "Yeah... It's cancer. One of they types they can't really treat, and Hank already told me that he doesn't think I'd survive the operation to remove the tumor. But I've had a long life, and I know that things are safe for my children, for my grandchildren. They won't have the same problems I did. I always knew that my time would come."  
  
He rubbed one hand over hers, his eyes sorrowful. "Is there anything... maybe if you could heal for a while?"  
  
Marie smiled, somehow unsurprised that he'd made the offer. "Logan... I'm old and tired now. There's just not that much time left in me anymore. It's time for me to move on, to find out... well, I guess to find out if Momma was right about heaven. I'd probably be a bit more worried, but... Hank said when the time comes, it'll be quick. Most likely, I'll just go to sleep... and I won't wake up."  
  
"Does that help?" Logan looked so serious, as if he was already trying to prepare himself.  
  
She reached out, hugging him as close and as hard as she could, feeling the tears in her eyes. "Sometimes."  
  
Logan did the only thing that he could right then, and held her close.  
  
end Dreams of Yesterday 


	4. Your Dream

author: Lucinda  
  
main character: Logan, memory of Xavier  
  
rating: pg  
  
disclaimer: Nobody that you recognize from Marvel is mine.  
  
distribution: please ask first.  
  
note: set approximately sixty years in the future of the X-Men movie. Probably a far more optimistic future than they will actually get.  
  
He'd spent some time talking to Marie, helping her remember her life, refreshing the memories of the good times, and helping to soothe the less happy memories. He still saw the young girl, so afraid and determined that he'd met so many years ago. He'd always considered her like a daughter to him. But now... she was going to die, and he couldn't help her. Or at least, she didn't want to let him if he could. She was ready to go.  
  
That simple fact made him feel... sad, or something fairly close. So many of the people that had been X-Men, the ones that had lived to become old anyhow, just seemed... They were ready to give up, to die. To allow the world to pass into the hands of the next generations. They felt safe in the future that they had helped build.  
  
Feeling thoughtful, he made his way back to the cemetery, not going to the small stone he'd carved for Dani, but instead to the mausoleum in the center. The final resting place of the mortal shell of Charles Xavier, the founder of the X-Men, originator of this school, a man who'd had a dream. He'd dreamed and struggled to reshape the world. Now, it seemed that he'd gotten the world he'd always said he wanted, a place where humans and mutants lived in peace and harmony. Or at least, a world where the shape and pattern of your genes weren't the reason for fighting and violence.  
  
"What do you think of the world now, Chuck? It's a lot like what you said you wanted." Logan spoke to the building, a small shell of pale marble shaped like a small Greek temple, four pillars in the front and a peaked rook. Instead of carvings, the name and dates of birth and death for Charles Frances Xavier scrawled over the pillars.  
  
Memory stirred, and he could almost hear Xavier's voice, echoing from so many years ago. "I want to shape the world, to bring about peace between humans and mutants. To forge a future where mutants are safe from humans, and humans safe from mutants."  
  
"A world of safety... but did you know how much they would forget?" He could remember how the Professor had brooded over the past, certain that if people did not learn from the lessons of the past, the world doomed to repeat past failures.  
  
The voice of the past spoke again. "My X-Men, carefully trained to control and use their powers to protect and help all mankind, mutant as well as human." He'd seemed so proud of his students, so delighted in their varied abilities.  
  
"Your X-Men... the teams, are almost remembered. It's remembered that the X-Men fought to protect the world, that they helped bring the peace we have now. But people now... the students, the younger adults... they don't remember how much it cost us. How hard we fought, how much we suffered and bled. They don't remember the ones we lost, the people who died for this dream. 'Ro's own grandkids don't realize that she was Storm, and Marie's kids... they can't imagine people being afraid of them just because they can do things everyone else can't. So many of them... I remember when we were amazed and delighted that any of us had the time or safety to have families, and now? Now, our own families don't understand how hard it was. How much it cost to build this world for them." He wasn't sure now if he was speaking to himself, the night air, or the the ghost of a dead dreamer.  
  
"You changed the world, Chuck. We changed it. Hardly anyone alive now even remembers how it was before..." He stopped, trying to swallow down the lump in his throat.  
  
Images of a long ago debate, where Xavier had defended the rights of individual mutants, insisting that all mutants were not criminals, that many mutants just wanted the ability to live in safety. The same safety as their normal brethren. "Are we not all human? Do we not bleed, and falter even as we hope and dream and reach for our goals?"  
  
"I feel like this new world has no place for me... no place for the others who were there. We're just... lingering remnants of history, like the bones of dinosaurs. Except that we have the arrogance to still be up walking around, still out there in the world." He'd finally found the words for some of his feelings. Things that had troubled him for a few years now, as he'd watched the world change.  
  
He fell quiet, listening to the night breeze, remembering Chuck. He'd had so much dignity, so much determination to change things. He'd been determined to see his dream to life, so determined that he'd debated, got involved in scientific and academic politics, been crippled in a mutant-related accident, and offered up like a willing sacrifice the lives and youths of his students. While it was a sacrifice they had all made willingly, had in fact seen no other good alternative for... The question remained. What was for the old warriors, the fighters for the safety and rights of mutants when that battle was over? When those rights were secure? What was left for them now? For many, it had been death or old age.  
  
Xavier had never spoke of how that new world, the world of safety and equality for mutants would be. He'd never spoke of what would become of the X-Men then. Perhaps he hadn't known either. Perhaps he hadn't imagined it would come so soon, within the lifetimes fo his students. Perhaps... perhaps it was because he feared this very situation. Perhaps his efforts to study the after-effects of the wars of the past had suggested this situation, old warriors with no place to belong.  
  
So many of the original X-Men had either stayed at the school or come back. Life as a hero was many things, but it didn't prepare you for living normally. For being an accountant, or a school teacher or a housewife. He couldn't think of any of the originals... Well, Robert Drake had gone on to have a normal life. Marie... she'd tried, bless her for that. But, of all of them, the former X-Men didn't do well at normal. Jubilee had come almost close, but how many people consider a traveling circus to be normal anyhow? That was almost as much of an anachronism as the original X-Men themselves were.  
  
"I guess I'll have to adjust to it all. What other choice do I have anyhow? But I will remember, all the suffering, the pain and the cost of this. There will be someone who remembers what this cost, what it took. Someone who remembers the X-Men as people instead of just legends." He stared at the carven letters, reminded of old temples to half forgotten gods.  
  
"Someone has to remember the humanity of those who fought."  
  
end Your Dream. 


	5. Worn Masks

Golden Years: Worn Masks  
  
author: Lucinda  
  
main characters: Mystique, Logan  
  
rating: pg/pg13  
  
disclaimer: Nobody that you recognize from Marvel is mine.  
  
distribution: please ask first.  
  
note: set approximately sixty years in the future of the X-Men movie. Probably a far more optimistic future than they will actually get.  
  
  
  
  
  
Logan meandered into the school the day after he'd visited the graves. He wasn't entirely certain why he'd stayed this year, maybe it was the desire to make certain that he'd said his goodbyes, in case some of the people that he knew weren't around next year. Weren't around... in case they died, he meant. Odd how he felt less willing to say those things as the years went by. He'd even found himself staring at the little place that Xavier had prepared for Magneto, a burial plot that had never been used, with a marker for a man who'd opposed Charles Xavier and his dream for over a decade before vanishing.  
  
There were times when he almost missed Magneto. He hadn't liked him, but he'd respected him. And there was no way that Magneto would have forgotten like the people out there today had let themselves forget. But Magneto was a misty figure now, a shadow to frighten people, just as the X-Men were murky heroes.  
  
"Logan, how... unexpected to see you again." It was one of Scott and Jean's girls, one of their red haired telepathic daughters. She had her own children now, and all of them attended Xavier's, even if they weren't quite certain why. When she spoke again, her body language suggested that she hoped he'd be leaving soon. "Were you planning to stay long?"  
  
"Rachel. You're looking good this year." Logan leaned against a wall, wondering when Rachel had gotten so stuffy. She'd been quite the wild child, running around, leaping into the lake, athletic, active, the dismay of her parents. "I've got no reason to hurry off anywhere."  
  
"ahhh. Well then, I suppose I could introduce you to our new history teacher." Rachel offered a thin smile, as if she was annoyed at him for some reason. Maybe she was reading his memories of child-Rachel, and didn't like to be reminded of her past?  
  
She led him down the hallway, and into a domed room with a full holographic system, currently showing an image of the Statue of Liberty. There was a single figure in the room, a woman in a dark skirt suit, with reddish hair and dark skin.. He knew that scent...  
  
"Logan, meet our new history instructor, Ms. Raven Darkeholm." Rachel let the name fall into the air, and then looked at the other woman, offering a few words before leaving the room. "This is Logan."  
  
Mystique offered a small smile, looking almost the same as she had sixty years ago, the main difference being the clothing, or at least, the appearance of clothing. "I remember you very well, Logan."  
  
"I remember you as well." Logan shook his head, wondering if he should be more careful what he thought about, what he wished for. "It's been a long time, I hadn't expected to see you again. A history teacher?"  
  
"Why not? I lived through some of this, I know these things. And maybe I can keep them from forgetting." She crossed her arms, looking frustrated. "Why do they let themselves forget?"  
  
"It's human nature. I don't know why, but I know that it happens. Maybe they'll remember if you teach them, you always left quite the impressions on people back then." He wasn't certain that he liked the idea of Mystique as a teacher, but... He wasn't part of the staff here, he had no authority. "Does anyone know that you're... you?"  
  
"Storm does. She might be older now, but she still sees things. Cyclops doesn't seem to recognize me at all, although he's aged rather well. Who else is even left?" There was something in her voice, almost a wistful quality.  
  
"That's not Cyclops, it's his son. He doesn't know you." Logan sighed. It seemed almost wrong to be understanding something that Mystique was saying so well, but it hurt sometimes to see how much had been forgotten. "So, you're a teacher now. It just sounds odd, different."  
  
She laughed, a small sound of dry amusement. "Yes, fully accredited and earned with my own face. So many changes... and what do you do now?"  
  
"Independent artist. Mostly wood sculpture... you'd be amazed how easy it is to carve up a block of wood with these claws." Logan sighed, remembering a fragment of conversation from years ago. "Hah, maybe I could stay, finally really be a damn art teacher. Except that I don't have a degree for it."  
  
"I can't quite picture you as an art instructor. Do you paint happy little trees?" She looked like she was trying not to laugh.  
  
Logan had to laugh. Happy little trees... the very idea was just ridiculous. "Trees on occasion, but not happy ones. Maybe, but I doubt they'd hire me. I don't fit here anymore. They don't need warriors anymore, nobody seems to."  
  
"Stay for a while anyhow. Just to make certain I'm not corrupting the youth." Her smile was teasing, almost suggestive.  
  
"Like I told Rachel, there's no big hurry to leave, nowhere that I need to go." Logan sighed, wondering how he'd ended up having a civil conversation with Mystique.  
  
She shook her head, turning back to the holographics. "It's a very sad thing that you're right. The world seems to hold little use for heroes anymore."  
  
Logan nodded, wondering if he had more in common with her than he'd wanted to believe, or if she had taken up yet another mask, this one mental and behavioral rather than a physical change. "Sure they do. Out back, with all the rows of marble. The honorably departed."  
  
"Well, I'm not ready to depart, honorably or otherwise. I don't want everything to be forgotten, and this way, maybe I can do something about it." She scowled, reminding him a lot more of the determined spy and assassin that she'd once been.  
  
For once, Logan wished her luck. "I'm not ready to be departed either."  
  
  
  
end Golden years: Worn Masks 


End file.
